Rainbow Colored Happiness
by Arukewari
Summary: Diagnosed with a terminal illness, Edward tries to cope with his shortened life span. Meanwhile, an ex-solider dreads the prospect of an endless existence. When their worlds collide, can they learn to live with their fate and become friends, or more? Human/ Vampire. Slash. E/J
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Welcome to my brand new story. Yeah, I know, it sounds very angsty and tragic but I'm hoping it won't be too much of a bumpy ride. Before I begin, I want to thank 'computasaysnoo', this story would not be the same without you, hell there wouldn't be a story without you so thanks for encouraging me, and beta-ing and getting me to click that tiny publish button. Readers, if you have time, go read Morphine, it's amazing.**

**Summary: Diagnosed with a terminal illness, Edward tries to cope with his shortened life span. Meanwhile, an ex-solider dreads the prospect of an endless existence. When their worlds collide, can they learn to live with their fate and become friends, or more? Human/ Vampire. Slash. E/J **

**Disclaimer: I do not own twilight, ah duh. The quotes at the beginning of each chapter are loosely based or directly taken from the show 'One Liter of Tears'. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_Jasper,_

_Why did this illness choose me?_

* * *

The _whirr_ of the wheels escaping its confinement after the five hour flight jolted me awake. I leaned against the headrest, my eyes already closing in a futile attempt to return to my previous semiconscious state. Waking up had to be the worst feeling in the world.

"Edward." I felt my mother's warm hand on my bicep. "We're landing, honey."

"Mhm." My noncommittal reply came out as a throaty groan. I immediately regretted leaving the air-conditioner on for the duration of the flight as I cleared my parched throat and swallowed painfully.

When the wheels hit the runway, causing an almost violent shudder to rake through the plane, I involuntarily gripped the armrest tighter. My throat closed in fear, my heart thudded to a stop. It was only when the speakers announced the rainy weather and wished us a pleasant time in Port Angeles that I visibly relaxed.

_Get a grip, Edward. What the hell is wrong with you? _I swore to myself, remembering a time when I used to enjoy flying. Remembering a time when death was the last thing on my mind.

I tumbled out of my seat as the seatbelt sign blinked and darkened into an unremarkable grey. Bags and coats were dropped from the overhead compartments.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?" my father said, a smile on his lined face. He somehow seemed to have aged years in the past few months.

I nodded in response, my own smile tugging at my lips. "I can't wait to start school again," I told him honestly.

"Aren't kids your age supposed to hate school?" he grinned.

"He's not like most kids," my mother said, ruffling my disarrayed hair affectionately.

I rolled my eyes, patting my hair back down and hoping – in vain – that it did not resemble a bird's nest. My parents gave each other an amused glance. I couldn't bring myself to retort, not when they were smiling again for the first time in what felt like forever.

By the time we were in the car with the luggage carefully squeezed into the trunk, the sky was already darkening into a somber purple. Droplets of rain left trails across the window and I watched as one merged into another and disappeared from sight. We weren't driving very fast, yet the recently illuminated streetlamps flashed by in a dizzying wave of orange light. It was only when my father slowed down at a streetlight that I registered we weren't going home.

"Where're we going?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together as I tried to recall my parents mentioning this detour.

"Dr Cullen's. Remember? He's the neurologist from that article we were talking about the other day," my father answered, glancing at the rear view mirror.

I didn't respond.

"I know you want to go home honey," my mother said sympathetically. "But we couldn't get an appointment at the hospital on such short notice and he offered to take a look at your scans."

I nodded. "No, of course. It's fine."

"He's supposed to be the best in his field. And he has a son your age," my mother said, filling the silence. "And a daughter too. Wouldn't it be nice if you were in the same year?"

I nodded again, not really listening anymore. Another doctor meant another set of scans and another set of tests and probably a short period of hospitalization and maybe some new pill I could take after the three other medications I was already taking, and they'll probably introduce me to a physical therapist, and an occupational therapist and a speech language pathologist if they were really thorough. I tried not to grimace or worse, cry.

My father turned the car onto an unpaved road, and stopped. Even in the gloom of the cloudy night I could make out that it was a rectangular, three stories tall house, probably white or some faded, pastel color.

"Just leave your things here; I doubt we'll be long," my father said.

The patter of rain seemed louder now that my father had cut off the engine. After taking a second to wonder why I had ever been excited about returning to Forks, I opened the car door. I used my hood to shield my face from the light drizzle.

"I hope they're home," my mother said after I rang the doorbell. I watched her swipe her gloved hands over her coat to get rid of the clinging water beads. "I told them we'd only be here around 8."

We soon found that her worries were for naught when the door opened to reveal whom I assumed to be Dr Carlisle Cullen. He must have noticed the shock in my eyes at his outrageous good looks and young age – I was blatantly staring – but he chose not to comment on it, instead welcoming us inside.

"Thank you so much for seeing us." My mother spoke with feeling.

He smiled. "It's really not a problem. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? Or something to eat before we go up to my office?"

"No, thank you," I answered when he looked my way. My parents both asked for a cup of coffee, black, with a splash of milk.

"It's this way." Dr Cullen guided us towards the massive curving staircase.

We followed him past several doors before he opened the one that led to a high-ceiled room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were covered by towering bookshelves that held – what seemed like – thousands of books. He gestured towards the couch then rolled the leather chair away from the mahogany desk so he could sit facing us. As soon as my ass hit the smooth leather of the chesterfield, a light knock resonated in the room.

"Come in," Dr Cullen said.

The girl who flitted into the room with a tray holding two cups of steaming coffee was remarkably tiny, with black cropped hair. Again, I was struck by her beauty, the splendor of her features, the perfect symmetry of her face. What a fucking gene pool.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, then turned to face me. "Hi, I'm Alice. I think we're going to be in the same year, junior right?"

"Yeah," I said, slightly puzzled.

She laughed. "Don't worry; I wasn't stalking you or anything. But when you transfer mid-way through a semester in a town this size, everyone hears about it."

"Great," I said dryly.

"I'm sure the gossip won't last long," she reassured me. "You know how it is. They'll be some high school drama two hours into the school day and everyone'll forget about the 'new kid'."

"Thanks. That makes me feel much better," I said sarcastically but with a smile curling my lips.

"Alice," Dr Cullen interrupted and I noticed my parents watching our interaction with amused interest. My mother's relief at seeing me act like a normal human being, even after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, was palpable. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Right, I should go," she said after one fleeting glance at her father. "See you tomorrow then?"

"Yep," I answered.

Alice took one moment to say a brief goodbye to my parents then walked – or perhaps more accurately, danced – across the room, closing the door behind her with a small_ click_.

A thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Sir?" I asked tentatively. He met my eyes and encouraged me to continue. "Does she know? That I have spinocerebellar ataxia, I mean," I clarified.

The smile fell off his lips as the conversation veered towards a heavier topic. "She knows you're sick but she doesn't know the details of your condition."

"Oh good," I sighed with relief. "I'd rather no one knew." It's hard enough being the 'new kid' as it is.

My mother placed her hand over mine, interlocking our fingers before saying, "I brought Edward's latest scans with me, if you would like to take a look at them."

Dr Cullen nodded and accepted the brown envelope. The godfather clock chimed once, announcing it was a quarter past seven and I was distracted by the darkness engulfing the forest I knew lay on the other side of the glazed window.

"Edward." My attention snapped back to him. "I understand your concerns and your wish to keep your condition a secret, but your scans show that your cerebellum is rapidly atrophying."

He paused to flip the scan towards the light and pointed towards the back of my neck. Though I couldn't see anything wrong with it, I knew that 'atrophying' couldn't possibly be a good thing. "I realize you haven't shown many apparent symptoms," he continued, placing the scans on the table and looking straight at me with a determined frown that warned me to brace myself for what was coming. "But they will progress rapidly in the next few years, and it will be impossible to keep it from your friends and teachers."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say. The small hand resting on mine tightened, anchoring me, as I looked down at the carpet and watched the delicately sewed designs blur into a mass of color. It wasn't as though I didn't know. Dr Stelli had diagnosed me with spinocerebellar atrophy almost a year ago, and I had done my research. But the symptoms had been so … unremarkable, so small. It had been easier to come to terms with my illness when I was feeling so healthy.

"And you'll need to start rehabilitation. I understand Dr Stelli has already prescribed medication for the tremors?"

I nodded.

"Edward, though this disease may bring hindrances in daily life, it won't harm your life immediately. Even as if we speak, research is still progressing. New cures and medicines are gradually being developed."

"I know." I inwardly winced as my voice came out more petulant than I intended. I took a deep breath. "Can't we just tell the school that I have some other disease, something less life-threatening?" The last thing I needed from my new classmates was pity.

"Edward," my father hesitated. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yeah, dad. Please." I looked back at the young, exhausted-looking doctor.

"If that is what you want, then yes," Dr Cullen said. His voice suggested he wanted to advise otherwise, but he didn't know. He didn't know what it was like, having to explain to random strangers that I was going to be unable to walk in a few years, unable to write or talk, unable to get out of bed on my own. Or worse, having to explain this to close friends, family.

Dr Cullen sighed. "We can reconsider in a few months. Until then, I want you to come to the hospital every week for tests, and we need to start rehabilitation. Have you been experiencing any new symptoms since your last session with Dr. Stelli?"

I hesitated.

"Edward?" My mother asked, worry rolling off of her in waves.

"Nothing serious," I hastily replied. "I just feel like I stumble more often, and sometimes when I'm reading, the words blur."

Dr Cullen nodded. "Okay, that's fine." He leaned over to grab a bulky diary. "When do you have time to come to the hospital?"

I glanced over to my mother who had extracted a slender green diary from her own bag. "Anytime after school, I guess."

"How about Tuesday? Around 5?"

I nodded. "Sure."

After exchanging a few trivial pleasantries, Dr Cullen led us to the door and wished me a good day at school tomorrow. I thanked him with a genuine smile.

When I got home I grabbed my bag and escaped to the familiarity of my old room. Without bothering to unpack or change into sweatpants I fell backwards on to my bed, my feet falling off one edge and the mattress sinking to accommodate my weight. I propped my head on to my hands and stared up at the ceiling. The dense clouds prevented even the dimmest moonlight from filtering through the window but I enjoyed the inky blackness surrounding me. It was bizarrely reassuring, weighing on me like a warm blanket, the kind you wrap around yourself on Christmas morning with a hot chocolate in your hands.

_'Edward, do not lose hope'_ I remembered Dr Stelli's words from when I was first diagnosed. A cure may be found and I still had years. _Years. _That wasn't so bad. There was a lot you could do in a year, hell there was a lot you could do in a month. I would have time to finish high school, maybe go to college, travel the world, fall in love, write a book, get married, watch the new Bond movie, have kids … I rolled over onto my left side so that my back faced the wall. And if they found a cure, I would have decades. After having spent the past year trying to cope with my shortened life-span, I couldn't even fathom what that would be like.

_Decades_. I whispered the word to myself, letting it hang over my head. _Decades_.

One decade was ten years.

3650 days.

87600 hours.

I was no longer painfully aware of my ticking alarm clock, and even felt myself being lulled into sleep. Months ago, I would have tensed in fear at the thought of sleeping away whatever time I had left. But it was okay. I was fine. I will go to school tomorrow, make friends, complain about homework, procrastinate, and maybe, _maybe_, just for a second, I'll forget I was dying.

Just for a second, I'll be a normal teenager.

* * *

**A/N So there you have it. Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Sorry for the late update, it's been… yeah, I'm not even going to look at the last time I updated. Thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited and just spent a few minutes reading my story and giving it a chance. I'm glad to see people liked the first chapter. I hope I don't disappoint with this one. Also there are things that aren't really canon, like the fact Jasper is considered younger than Rosalie but hey, I figured if you are reading a Jasper/ Edward story, you aren't expecting the stories to be too on par with the original twilight.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Twilight or the quotes at the beginning of each chapter.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_Jasper,_

_If I were a flower, then now I'd be a bud. _

_I will treasure the beginning of my youth without any regrets._

* * *

The cafeteria was in the building furthest from the one I had just vacated. By the time I stepped into the brightly lit lunchroom, I felt like one of those soaked cats with its fur plastered to its skeleton. I usually preferred the rain to the baking sun that burned me to a crisp just to spite my fair skin, but I could see that a few days here and the rain was going on my list of things I wasn't going to miss after I died. The lunch line wasn't too long, but the lunch itself looked less than stellar. I inwardly shrugged and got myself the fish with a side of fries.

"Edward!" I turned my head towards the general direction of the voice and smiled as I spotted Mike and Ben from my trig class this morning.

"Hey guys," I greeted, pulling a chair and plopping down with my tray. It took me a while to get the general gist of the current conversation, but they weren't expecting me to join in so I simply listened in with a distracted frown and dug into my food.

To the left, at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, I noticed Alice Cullen. Her spiked hair was instantly recognizable. As was her ready smile. She was leaning forward on her elbows and talking to someone with his back to me. The seats surrounding them were empty but, for some reason, I wasn't all that surprised. I couldn't quite put my finger to it but there was something odd about them. They were perfectly polite, friendly even, and yet they seemed … unworldly. Like they didn't quite belong here.

"They're the Cullens right?" I asked when there was a lull in the conversation, scraping the last piece of fried fish from my plate. I jutted my chin towards their table.

Mike seemed surprised. "You've met them?"

"Yeah, yesterday. I had to go to Dr. Cullen's for a check-up." I chose my words carefully, drowning them in an air of overdone nonchalance. Thankfully they didn't seem to notice; then again, why would they?

"What, you sick or something?" Mike asked between mouthfuls of chicken. He swiped sauce off his chin with the back of his hand.

"Kinda. According to the doctors it's some teenage syndrome thing. I don't know, I wasn't really listening. The nurse's top kept slipping down," I smirked as the guys laughed. "They're very …" I tried to find a word that adequately described the Cullens' striking looks.

"Hot?" Ben suggested.

Mike waggled his eyebrow in a rather obscene manner. "Smokin' hot."

"Not the word I was going for, but yeah."

"You should've seen the one who just graduated, now she was _hot_," said a black-haired boy with a bad case of acne, emphasizing the last word with something that sounded suspiciously like a moan. "Too bad she had a boyfriend."

Mike snickered. "Right, like you would've stood a chance," he teased. We all laughed as Ben added with a disparaging roll of his eyes,

"_Way _out of your league dude."

"No she wasn't," he insisted, his voice taking on a whiny quality that made us all laugh harder.

"Anyway," Ben continued. "Those two are the youngest, Alice Cullen and Jasper Hale."

"Hale?"

"Yeah, they were all adopted ages ago but him and Rosalie, that's his sister, kept their last name. But they all lived together with Mrs. Cullen, at least until this summer. Isn't she getting married?" Ben directed his question to the other two.

A girl with huge bouncy hair answered, "To Emmett Cullen. Not that any of us were invited," she sniffed. "I'm Jessica by the way."

"Edward," I quickly introduced myself. "So wait, doesn't that mean … That's kinda gross."

Ben shrugged. "Well, it's not like they're actually related."

"Weird though, right?" Mike agreed with me. "Still, small town gossip. You can't make this shit up."

My eyes flickered back to their table, noticing how they were now staring at the walls, not speaking or eating. I felt awkward just looking at them.

"We should get to class," Ben observed, glancing at the clock hanging over the buffet counter.

The chorus of chairs scraping against the floor drew my eyes back from my rather rude staring of the strange pair. "Trash?" I offered my tray up, concentrating on watching a couple of girls dump their unfinished yogurts, sandwich wrappers and fruit cores on my empty plate. They thanked me and I nodded my welcome. Pushing the chair back with my hip, I watched the others amble to their respective classes. Tray in one hand, I glanced around and found a half-empty tray holder, the red paint peeling off in a couple of places from too frequent use. I lowered the tray to place it on the protruding metal.

My hands slackened.

The tray started slipping from my frozen fingers. I urged them to tense, begged my forearm muscles to clench. Anything to straighten my tray. Anything that would prevent its contents from smashing to the floor in a million colored shards. Nothing.

_Come on._

The glass of water slid away from me. Still, my arms wouldn't move, my body wouldn't cooperate. It let my tray tip vertically. Let it …

"Careful."

Pale fingers snatched the tipping glass out of the air. Simultaneously, a hand grabbed the edge of my tray, leveling it.

"You okay?"

I stared down at my tray, my eyes wide, my lower lip trembling. No. It was too soon. I couldn't be showing these symptoms. My body couldn't already be deteriorating. Not yet. Not now. I was only seventeen. I was just a kid.

Somehow I still had enough presence of mind to thank the guy with a stronghold on my tray. I vaguely noticed he looked a little like Alice. Same pale skin, same black eyes, same unrivalled good looks. From my peripheral I saw him place my tray back. He looked at me, more worried than surprised by the panicked expression I knew was splashed across my face.

_Breathe, Edward_. I concentrated on the movement of my ribcage. Up, down, up, down. Systematic. Simple. I walked to my next class – Biology II – recalling the clipped directions from the receptionist this morning, in a daze. I arrived a little early as I hadn't yet been assigned a locker and therefore did not require the detour. The classroom was still relatively empty, consisting only of two girls and the teacher who introduced himself as Mr. Banner.

I placed my pencil case on the table and took a seat near the center aisle. I gathered my pens and ordered them according to size, then according to preference. Not exactly entertaining, but reassuring. I felt my fingers move over them with practiced dexterity. I concentrated on the cool plastic under my finger pads, and on the way my hands danced over them without so much as a tremor. My heart slowed until I couldn't hear the roaring blood in my ears or feel the drumming against my ribcage.

Okay. That's better. Clearly, I was fine.

I schooled my expression into one of polite disinterest and watched the class fill with students. Most had become accustomed to the 'new kid' so didn't bother me with dumb questions that were intended as icebreakers but tended to drift – and occasionally plunge – the conversation into awkward silences.

A girl started making her way towards the last available seat. The one next to mine. She stumbled over a bag in the walkway and caught herself on the edge of a table. An embarrassed, frustrated blush flooded her face but she quickly shrugged it off. Like it was nothing, no big deal. She probably tripped all the time. She's clumsy. So she tripped, so what?

It's not a big deal. I breathed in deeply, trying to block the memories she triggered. Memories of falling over, scraping my chin, memories of my worried mother demanding an MRI, just in case, memories of Dr. Stelli sitting us down and explaining everything, _changing _everything.

All I did was trip. Like her. Like this girl settling herself in the seat adjacent mine and glancing at me through a curtain of dark hair.

And they handed me a death sentence. A fucking death sentence.

I clenched my hands into fists and couldn't help the antagonistic stare I sent her way. Not that it was her fault, but shit, I always had the worst luck. Spinocerebellar ataxia? I mean, really? It couldn't be a quick and painless death either. It had to be one of those that took years and slowly ate me away until I had to be chained to a hospital bed and have nurses attend to me for fear I might choke on my own spit.

An invalid. That's what I was going to be. Forget the guy who spent countless hours practicing football so he could be Captain one day. Forget the guy who could have a girl run into his arms without falling over backwards like deadweight. Forget the guy who could write _on the line_ without his hand convulsing and ruining the page, again.

I sat frozen in my seat, hating myself, hating this nameless girl who _tripped_ and reminded me that I had absolutely nothing to look forward to. Go to college, get married? Yeah, right. The threadbare dream from last night seemed foolish now, cast in the cold, unforgiving light of the day.

I tried to calm myself. I was a fucking emotional wreck.

An emotional wreck drowning in self-pity. I didn't even recognize myself anymore. Revulsion and anger oozed from my pores and I could tell I was freaking out my neighbor who kept meeting my glares with bewildered peeks.

The class seemed to drag on for hours. I felt suffocated. Finally, the bell rang loudly and I was out of my seat, my pens clattering as I jammed them into my bag. A mantra of _out, out_ started in my head and I was out the door before the girl had a chance to unfreeze and inquire what the hell was the matter with me. Students spilled out of classes. Their voices gave me a headache.

Pretty soon I found myself standing outside the main entrance with a poorly designed roof over my head. The wind blew the downpour into my face and drenched my sweater.

"Ditching?"

I turned. Alice Cullen stood a few feet away. "No. I have a note that lets me out of gym. You?"

"Study period," she answered.

We stood there in silence. I didn't really know what she was doing here, nor did I care.

"And you're freezing your ass off out here because …" she trailed off.

"Because I'm waiting for my mum to pick me up." A blush crept onto my cheeks. Shit, I hadn't meant to admit my_ mommy_ still drove me to and from school. To explain my presence outside, I added, "and the common room stinks."

After a small pause she said, "I can drive you home."

I raised my right brow at her. "Doesn't your brother need a ride?"

"He'll manage," she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past my lips.

"Sure, okay. Let me just…" I awkwardly gestured towards my phone.

"Call your mommy?" she teased.

I blushed and retorted with a half-hearted 'shut up'.

A few minutes and an embarrassing phone call later, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of a silver Volvo with puffs of hot air blowing into my face and drying my sweater. Tingly warmth spread to my extremities and I rubbed my numb hands together. I listened to the wet squeaks of the wiper moving rhythmically across the windshield, wondering whether Alice intended to sit in silence for the duration of the ride or turn on the radio.

"Do I turn left here?"

I glanced at the landmarks and, noticing the Cheesecake Factory, nodded. "Yeah, then left again at the light."

She tapped the wheel with her index finger as she waited for the lights to change. "Are you coming over to our house again, or meeting Carlisle at the hospital?" she asked.

"At the hospital. Tomorrow after school." I tried to sound nonchalant, but I'm not sure I succeeded. "Why?"

"No reason, just making polite small talk."

I snorted and she grinned, showing a set of perfect, white teeth. I tried not to stare. Don't think I quite succeeded with that one either.

"Okay, fine, that's a lie," she said. "The truth is, your mother… um, how do I say this?"

She waited and my confusion slowly morphed into dawning realization. "No. Please tell me she didn't – "

"Ask me to look after you and protect you from the big bad bullies at school? Yeah, she did," Alice smirked.

"I can't_ believe_ my mother asked you to … actually, no wait, I can. What am I, twelve?" I moaned in complete mortification. "Please, just ignore her."

"I can't do that," she exclaimed, placing a hand on her heart and looking affronted. "I promised I would take care of her little boy."

"This is really embarrassing."

"Nah, it's adorable."

"Again with the treating me like I'm twelve," I said, dropping my head back and sighing in irritation. From the unapologetic grin on her face I could tell she knew I was being overly dramatic on purpose. "For future reference, no guy above the age of thirteen wants to be 'adorable'," I said, ending my sentence with a terrible imitation of her voice.

"I'll keep that in mind … Left or right?"

"Right."

The car swerved into a bumpy lane that could barely fit one car. I sank into the plush seat and groaned, "When the hell did she even talk to you?"

"Yesterday, before you guys left. It was nice. She was all like 'if it isn't too much trouble, I don't wish to impose on your kindness' – "

"Blah blah, it doesn't change the fact she asked a, what are you 4'5" – ?"

"4'10"" she interrupted.

"Whatever. My point is she asked someone _half my size_ to take care of me. I don't need a fucking babysitter."

"Tsk tsk, language," she admonished.

"Shut up," I muttered, and she laughed.

"Seriously though, I'll drive you to the hospital. It's on the way anyway." She gunned the engine and I winced as I imagined the mud splattering on the side of her previously clean car. Soon we were off the trail and the car was shuddering across a concrete lane. A thought occurred to me.

"Is _my mother_ the reason you offered to drive me today?" I asked, not sure whether I should feel thankful or insulted.

"Nope. That was just me taking pity on the dripping wet, pathetic-looking 'new kid'."

Now I definitely felt insulted. "Thanks," I answered dryly.

"You are very welcome, dear," she said, putting on her stupid motherly voice. She could have pinched my cheek and offered me a cookie without it looking out of place.

"You know what," I said. "I think I'll manage on my own tomorrow."

"Stop being such a baby, I'll drive you," she ordered firmly. I doubted she was a person many people said 'no' to. "And you can come by our house afterwards."

I glared at her. "Why would I want to do that? Next house on the right," I instructed.

"Because we're friends," she stated simply, crunching gravel meeting her words as she parked the car in front of my driveway.

"What? Since when?!"

"Since now." She cut off the engine and the hum of the heater faded. "Anyway, I want you to meet Jasper."

I looked at her questioningly. "Your brother? Why?"

"No particular reason," she said, an innocent lilt to her voice. I looked at her suspiciously but she didn't look like she was going to spill so I saved my breath. I'd find out soon enough.

"Fine. Whatever." I sulked, masking my curiosity. I was pretty sure Jasper was the one who had helped me with the tray at lunch. Although at the time I was too distraught to really notice what he looked like, I recalled the obvious inhumanly good looks. That brief encounter didn't give me a clue as to why Alice wanted us to meet though.

"Great," she said, enthused. "We're going to have so much fun together."

"I doubt it," I responded wryly. "But thanks for driving me." I picked up my bag and awkwardly slung it over my shoulder.

"See you tomorrow," Alice said cheerfully as I stepped out into the light drizzle. The clouds lay over us like airy foam, just thick enough that light rays couldn't quite break through.

"See ya." I closed the car door with a resounding thud. I sighed and fished into my bag for the house keys. I knew both my parents were working so I wasn't surprised by the empty silence that surrounded me as I escaped the rain.

Once in my room, I noticed the travelling bag I had ignored last night in favor of going to bed, and decided to kill time by unpacking. I plugged my iPod into the loudspeaker and the loud booming of a Flo Rida song filled my ears. Most of my things had been sent over prior to my arrival so it was quick work.

I picked myself up off the floor and dropped into my chair. It sank slightly and squeaked. The fog made everything grey. Under a couple of novels precariously stacked on my desk I noticed my blue notebook. Remembering Dr. Stelli telling me to record any changes in my condition, I pulled it out. I clicked my pen.

_I went to school today. The rain is light enough that I can't hear the constant pattering on the roof as I write this. I dropped my tray at lunch. Still hoping it's mere clumsiness but I know I'm just kidding myself. I made a few friends, Mike and Ben and Alice. She invited me to her place. I'm afraid…_

I scratched out the last bit, realizing Dr. Cullen was going to read this tomorrow. _Keep it clinical_, I told myself.

_It was only for a moment though. In Bio, I could move fine. I kept glaring …_

Again, I scribbled over my unfinished line. I closed my notebook and leaned back. There was so much more I wanted to write, so much more I had to say. But couldn't. I looked up at the ceiling, tracing the rectangular lines with my eyes. _Maybe, I could start writing my own diary_, I thought, then snorted. A diary? You'd think I was a 13 year old girl. It's not like there was anyone I could write to anyway. I would have felt awkward starting with '_Dear diary...'._

A clatter announced my parent's arrival.

"Edward?"

"In here," I yelled, dropping my pen and letting it roll across my closed notebook. "Welcome home."

"Thanks son," my father said with a smile when he spotted me at the top of the stairs.

"Hungry?" my mother asked as she hung her coat and dropped the keys in a flat bowl. It was an ugly thing we found at a garage sale but my mother had become attached to it. It was still the source of many arguments between my parents but if a hideous bowl was the only thing that got them bickering, I wasn't going to complain.

"Starving," I answered.

My mother quickly whipped up a Caesar salad and cut up fresh bread from the bakery down the street. We ate in comfortable silence.

"How was your first day of school?" my father asked, sprinkling seasoning on his plate.

"Fine. We're reading Dickens in English," I said knowing how much my father loved his books.

"I can help you with that if you want," he offered. "Which one is it?"

"Hard Times." I soaked my bread in the sauce and popped it into my mouth. "Oh, and Alice offered to drive me to the hospital tomorrow," I told my mom who met my glare unashamedly.

"That's great. I knew I could count on her."

"Mom," I whined. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can darling, but I feel better knowing someone had your back," she looked at me, worried, and I knew I'd feel guilty if I opposed too vehemently. My father grinned.

"Anyway," I continued, knowing it was easier to cave than to argue with my mother, "she asked if I wanted to go over to her house and hang out." More like ordered, I corrected in my head.

She nodded. "Okay sure. Do you know what time you'll be home?"

I shrugged. "Probably around dinner. It won't be for too long," I answered, getting up and placing my plate and cutlery into the sink.

"Text me if you're going to be late."

"Yeah, fine," I said already making my way up the stairs.

My room was the first one to the left. I closed the door behind me and turned on my laptop. My teachers hadn't yet given me homework so I enjoyed scrolling through dumb videos and facebook updates without feeling guilty about procrastinating. I considered the friends and classmates I had met today as I accepted their 'friend requests'. I was surprised to find I was looking forward to tomorrow. An excited feeling settled on my chest; it felt similar to an adrenaline rush or the nervousness one felt before opening a report card. I hadn't felt this way since before my diagnosis. I smiled to myself and closed my laptop.

I fell asleep almost instantly. I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N So better, worse, loved it, hated it…? Tell me in a review. I would love to hear your thoughts. **

**It was un-betaed so if there are any mistakes please tell me in a review or PM. Any constructive criticism is also welcome. I can take it. **

**Thanks for reading.**


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